


The Tale of The Singing Cat

by GrannyBoo



Series: The Fleeting Fates [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Mild Gore, Near Death, attempted confessions of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 15:11:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13437462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrannyBoo/pseuds/GrannyBoo
Summary: “Caleb-““Please. If it is my time to go, I’d like to go listening to something pleasant,” he pushed and Fjord found himself unable to deny him.“What kind of story?” Fjord asked.“Something happy I suppose,” Caleb mused, wincing when his side twinged.“Okay. Um. Did you ever hear the one about the singin’ cat?”-or-Caleb takes a near fatal hit in a battle and Fjord has to keep him alive until help arrives





	The Tale of The Singing Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo Critters, hope you enjoy this nonsense I post.
> 
> Feel free to shoot me any fic requests on tumblr at agentoakysart

**_ The Tale of The Singing Cat _ **

Fjord’s hands were shaking.

He’d been trying to get them to stop, enough to ensure the pressure he was applying to Caleb’s side and chest was constant. But the tremors ran up his arms and he could see the twitch in the mangled fabric and flesh on his companion and it made the panic he was warding off worse.

“Shit, shit, just-“ his voice was a choked, wavering thing as he tried to steel his nerves but it was hard. It was so hard to remain calm and collected after what had happened.

He could still see the gleaming teeth in the gaping jaws of the manticore before it sank them into Caleb’s side, the normally quiet and reserved man letting loose a piercing scream that would, in all honesty, haunt Fjord’s nightmares for years to come. Fjord still couldn’t understand how Caleb hadn’t passed out, lying in a steadily growing pool of his own blood, his blue eyes unfocused and growing steadily more and more lax.

“Uh uh, don’t you go fallin’ asleep on me, Caleb. Come on, rise and shine, buttercup,” Fjord rambled, his left hand slipping for a moment before he reapplied pressure. The movement forced a sharp cry from Caleb, his focus returning a little, sharpened by pain. His gaze slid towards Fjord, looking up at him, pleading silently for something.

Fjord was afraid what he might ask of him. Especially since they’d been waiting so long for their companions to return with a potion, leaving Caleb (too damaged to move) and Fjord (legs shaking and stomach reeling) to stay in the clearing with the remains of the manticore. Jester’s spells were shot, their last potion drunken by Molly after he’d drawn too much of his own blood mid-battle and the nearest village was an hour away by horse. Their friends had been gone nearly two, they had to be getting close. Then they could borrow a horse, get potions, a doctor, _something-_

“Fjord…”

“I know, I’m sorry. I won’t move again, they’ll be back soon and you’ll be fixed right up, quick as a flash.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself, my friend?”

Fjord’s jaw clenched and he looked down at the man. Through the disturbing layer of red and pink staining Caleb’s teeth (there was no way that was good, Fjord didn’t have to be a healer to know that), the wizard was smiling, gently and sadly all at once up at Fjord.

“Ain’t no need to convince, I’m tellin’ you what’s gonna happen,” Fjord insisted, heart stuttering in his chest as he registered the new dampness in the knees of his pants, soaking in the blood as it reached him.

“We both know you’re smarter than that. Fjord, can you permit me one request?” Caleb asked. “Could you tell me a story? I think you really have a wonderful voice for storytelling,” he added, that wonderful, horrible smile still on his lips. Fjord’s eyes burned.

“Caleb-“

“Please. If it is my time to go, I’d like to go listening to something pleasant,” he pushed and Fjord found himself unable to deny him.

“What kind of story?” Fjord asked.

“Something happy I suppose,” Caleb mused, wincing when his side twinged.

“Okay. Um. Did you ever hear the one about the singin’ cat?”

“I cannot say I have. Did it sing as we do or was it a metaphor?”

“No, no it was a cat that spoke and sang in common.” Fjord’s lips curled in an attempt at a smile, unconvincing and strained but it was all he could do to not cry instead as he watched the flushed skin go ghastly pale, words growing more and more slurred and eyes going lax.

“Intriguing. Tell it to me?” Caleb asked, thumb absent mindedly stroking the underside of Fjord’s wrist. Fjord nodded.

“It wandered from city to city, hidin’ in dark corners and singin’ its songs to people that passed by in the street. As though it were an angel singing from above, givin’ the people that heard it the inspiration to follow their dreams and hearts…”

-

“We’re nearly there, just past this stream!” Nott shouted from the back of the horse, clutching onto Jester’s cloak with shaking hands.

“Its okay, we’ll get there, give Caleb the potion and get his filthy ass into a bath and bed,” Molly insisted, riding beside them. Beau and Yasha were remaining at the inn, preparing somewhere for the party to rest and more supplies to help Caleb if they managed to get him back to town.

“Why won’t this stupid horse go faster?!” Jester snapped, snapping the reins and urging it faster, leaping over the small stream before rushing into the clearing.

There, sitting in a pool of Caleb’s blood with his hands still dutifully pressed to the wound in his side, sat Fjord, speaking quietly to Caleb, whose eyes were closed.

“Fjord?” Jester called, sliding down off the side of the horse and approaching, but Fjord didn’t answer, he continued speaking to Caleb in hushed tones. A few steps more and Jester caught the words Fjord spoke.

“I told you they’d get here, please open your damn eyes. Don’t make a liar of me. Don’t die before I-…There’s another story I need to tell you, but you won’t get to hear it if you don’t-“ Fjord whispered, golden eyes rimmed red and face contorted into something desperate and physically pained.

“Fjord,” Molly called, kneeling by Caleb’s other side, hand hovering over the wizard’s mouth to check if he was breathing. Warm puffs of air sent a wave of relief through the tiefling’s body but his companion was still at death’s door.

“He needs to sit up at least a little, Fjord. Can you help me get him up just a little?” Molly asked, voice soothing and quiet. Fjord seemed to finally register the presence of his friend and nodded shakily, one hand still firmly pressed to the wound in Caleb’s side and the other shifting the man until his head was cradle in the crook of Fjord’s shoulder, his rust-red stained fingers smoothing down Caleb’s hair. Molly was quick and efficient in pouring the faintly glowing potion into Caleb’s mouth, helping him swallow and cough until the vial was empty. After waiting a few moments with bated breath, Caleb’s breathing became steadier, his skin returning to a slightly healthier shade of pink and Fjord let out a shaky breath and smiled, nodding and murmuring to himself as he allowed his head to drop down onto Caleb’s, his eyes hidden from the others and the telltale sniffles and attempts at controlled breathing remained unmentioned by the rest of the party.

“You can let go now, its okay,” Jester murmured, touching Fjord’s arm. Fjord instinctively wanted to refuse, afraid that if he removed his hand Caleb might bleed out but he conceded, hands still shaking as Molly took the wizard into his arms and lifted him onto the horse.

“Take Fjord back to the inn, I’ll ride ahead with Caleb,” Molly called before spurring the horse into a gallop and vanishing into the forest.

Fjord jumped when a small hand took his arm and started trying to wipe the blood off his hands.

“Nott-“

“It has to come off,” Nott insisted, letting out a frustrated snarl when it remained on Fjord’s skin. She gave up on the cloth and she pulled him along, back towards the stream where the horse had wandered for a drink, tugging him down until he was kneeling by the water. “Let’s get it off you and then we can go to the inn to check on Caleb.”

Fjord took the better part of 10 minutes scrubbing furiously at his hands until they were raw and irritated, but free from red, barring the specks that had managed to soak into his arm wraps and flecked on the otherwise gleaming metal of his bracers before the trio made their way back to town.

-

By the time they’d gotten back to the inn, Caleb had been seen to by the healer and placed in bed, with Yasha and Beau watching over him, retreating to a different room when the others had returned. Yasha seemed angrier than usual, seeing her new companion in such a state, and Beau wanted to calm her; Jester and Nott following after, leaving Fjord and Molly in the room with a sleeping Caleb.

“You know I like stories,” Molly said, feigning a casual tone that Fjord didn’t feel the need to call out. “You were telling one to Caleb? I’d be interested in hearing it,” he asked, taking a seat in the armchair by the window while Fjord dragged the desk chair over to the bedside.

“It was about a singing cat.”

“Ah, I think I’ve heard that one. A lovely tale. Inspiration to chase one’s dreams and fulfil your goals,” Molly crowed, fiddling with a bauble hanging from his ear. “And the other? That you were to tell him later?”

Fjord hesitated.

“Its about a recent addition to the cat’s tale. A wandering half-orc, briefly separate from his rag tag group of adventurers stumbled upon the cat’s hiding place. When asked what it was that he wanted to achieve, if given the blessing of the cat’s song, he replied with ‘all I ask is the bravery needed to confess my love’,” he said the shifting in the armchair pausing for a moment before he continued with a smile bordering on hysterical. “’To a lonely, fuckin’ filthy man whom I love with all my heart. That’s all I ask’.”

“And the cat?” Molly pressed, watching Fjord reach out, the backs of his fingers brushing ever so slightly against Caleb’s wrist.

“…Its voice was beautiful,” he paused, the smile smoothing into something soft and adoring as he looked at Caleb before it slipped away completely, along with his hand from the side of the bed. “But the half-orc didn’t get a moment alone with the man. They needed to slay a manticore. He thought ‘it can wait. I’ll wait’,” he couldn’t hold back the few errant tears that slipped down his cheeks, wiping them away with still tremoring hands.

“Its true, he nearly missed his chance,” Molly said from across the room, Fjord’s golden eyes landing on him. The tiefling had his cards in hand, shuffling them idly. “But fate tells me, they still have more to their story yet,” he added, showing Fjord a single card with two beings intertwined, framed by stars and held in each other’s embrace. Fjord remained silent as Molly stood, stretched and walked towards the doorway.

“It isn’t wise to defy the fates, my friend. Best do what they say,” Molly called over his shoulder before leaving, closing the door gently behind him. The room was silent.

Fjord’s gaze returned to Caleb and he watched as his chest rose and fell with steady, even breaths. Molly's words echoed in his head and he settled down in the chair for the night, waiting patiently for Caleb to wake, so he could finish the story.


End file.
